A Pathfinder's Guide to War
by Q5
Summary: There was always a hole in the unit selection for AW. Well, that's about to change...(Chapter one: Fall in)


A Pathfinder's Guide to War

Prologue

Macroland, a small island to the north of the Wars World main continents, has been overrun and captured by the forces of the Black Hole Army. All resistance was crushed, except for one man, a CO, who barely managed to escape by commandeering a landing craft before his HQ was overrun.

Chapter 1: Fall in.

C;;;;;;;;;;;;;;: 

It was another clear, bright day, the man thought as he down-shifted his jeep before making a right-hand turn off the highway and onto a lightly-traveled gravel road. He smiled at the Irony, knowing that this road led to someone very important, although this person either didn't want to draw attention to his self, or, he thought with a chuckle, that he didn't know that he could have a paved road, considering how much his country owed the kid. But he was just fine, he thought as the house of the person he was sent to pick up came into view……well, it wasn't really his house that came into view, but more like the long line of cars parked outside his house. The man smiled, having sent his own car here to be fixed by this amazing kid.

He sighed softly as he pulled into the driveway and shut his jeep of and got out, and, upon hearing the radio playing the latest Jack Michaelson hits, he walked over to the source of the music, a rather large garage with the main door open, a manila folder tucked under his arm.

Sure enough, there he was, wearing a faded orange military suit, lying on a mechanic's creeper underneath the engine compartment of a black Dodge Viper, a toolbox by the tire. The man stood at attention and saluted, if only because it was required of him. "Communiqué from HQ, Sir. It's urgent."

"Hold on a second…" said a youngish boy voice from under the Viper. "…Could you hand me a nine-sixteenths wrench?"

The man shrugged, then bent over, reaching into the toolbox and grabbing a wrench without really looking, the head of which knocking against another wrench as he was about to…

"That's a seven-eighths wrench you're holding, private. Try the one on the edge."

The man raised his eyebrow, then looked at the size printed on the side of the steel wrench and, sure enough, it WAS a seven-eighths. So, he set that one down and picked up the one near the edge that was, to his amazement, a nine-sixteenths. "Wow…..how did you do that, sir?"

With a soft chuckle, the boy slid out form under the car and smiled up at him, a towel wrapped around his head to protect his hair. "Well, what good is a mechanic if he doesn't know his tools?" With that, the boy put the wrench back in the toolbox, standing up while taking the cloth off from his head as he went walking to find a roll of shop towels. "And please, call me Andy." He said with a toothy grin, holding out his hand to his subordinate.

"Sir, Yes sir," came the automatic reply as the private handed over the folder to him.

Andy took the folder and opened it, quickly reading the contents. Slowly, a smile spread across Andy's face as he read, followed by a small cheer, which confused the private to no end.

"Sir…..?"

Andy looked up with glee, "I get to see my friends again!" he shouted, earning a blink and a raised eyebrow from his audience of one.

"Sir, uh…I'll be waiting in the jeep…." said the private before Andy bolted off into his house to get ready. He shook his head and sighed, walking back to the vehicle. "…Does he enjoy war or something…..?" he asked the gentle wind as he inserted the key into the ignition and turned. The jeep's engine turned slowly and noisily in protest, then roared to life, the private shifting out of gear and into neutral.

A short while later, Andy stepped out of his house and walked to the jeep, carrying his duffle bag, a toolbox, and his two over-sized, curved wrenches, which have since become his trademark look after having helped save Cosmo land from Black Hole so many years earlier. His hair was unusually tame, having taken a quick shower to clean up most likely, and was wearing their country's Battle Dress Uniform: Orange, and lots of it.

"The engine needs a good cleaning and an oil change," he told the private as he put his things in the back seat, then hopped in the passenger's seat, "…And possibly a new axle.."

The private chuckled heartily, replying with a "Yes sir," and a smile as he shifted to first and turned the jeep around in the driveway, then floored it, motoring away to find the other savior of his country.


End file.
